


Fountain of Hope

by CassieHughes



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Coins in fountains, Confused Gimli, Fluff, Pining Legolas, Why do elves throw coins in fountains?, fountains, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieHughes/pseuds/CassieHughes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dwarf wonders upon the strange customs of elves and is amazed when finally all is revealed. Or, how throwing a coin into a fountain is no guarantee that wishes will come out the way you planned. Written for May 2015 Teitho - Money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fountain of Hope

 

 

Gimli stood gazing into the water, his mind racing through calculations faster than an elf could lock a dungeon door and throw away the key. There must be hundreds, no, thousands he corrected himself and all just sitting there, growing dim and tarnished as the silt and algae gradually covered them over with the passing of the years. What on earth were they doing there? Some sort of offering to the gods perhaps? He frowned. Elves he knew were strange creatures but in all the stories he had heard they hoarded their treasure gleefully, frequently polishing it and gloating as it shone. This watery, dirty grave did not equate at all with those tales. He sighed in frustration. Maybe these Rivendell elves were different, he had never come across their like before, refined, elegant, and remarkably hospitable. They oozed culture and breeding from every sweet scented pore. Unlike those wretched, wild and feral Sylvans that dwelled deep within the dark forest of Mirkwood and their avaricious, gem besotted so called King. His face curled with distaste. This would never have been allowed within that elf’s delven halls he snorted to himself and sent up a prayer of thanks to Mahal that he was far away from any of those uncouth beings.

 

A slight breeze wafted the fresh scent of greenery after a summers shower his way and he looked up from the pool, his eyes fixing upon a slight figure, dressed all in green who stood, subconsciously emulating his own earlier, thoughtful pose on the other side of the marble fountain which perpetually showered silver droplets into the body of water between them. As he watched, the elf, for he had recognised it as such, reached into a small pouch at his belt, withdrew a small object and held it in his hand for the space of a few heartbeats, rolling it between his fingers. Gimli tilted his head in curiosity. Was the elf going to do what he thought he was? He did. With an understated, elegant movement the pale hand dexterously manipulated the object onto the top of a slender thumb and flicked it high into the air. The golden coin, for now the dwarf could see that was what it was, flipped over and over, rising high over the fountain, glinting as it caught the sun before eventually falling back down to disappear into the water with a small splash.

 

For a moment the pair stood in silence, the elf’s eyes fixed upon the gently rippling entry point, the dwarf’s upon the other’s face, until with a slight shake of the head as if to cast off a dream the slender figure turned and walked away, apparently oblivious to his observer. The dwarf grunted to himself, muttered something unintelligible to any but one of his own race under his breath, then moved away in the opposite direction, still pondering upon the strangeness of elves.

 

It wasn’t until much later, at the council of Elrond that the pair were brought together once more and the dwarf was surprised to find the green clad elf was, in fact, one of the wild creatures in whose realm his father had been held captive many years before and he found himself snorting with contempt at the youngsters account of the escape of the creature called Gollum. What more could Gandalf have expected from such a raggle taggle, heathen lot as they?

 

With the subsequent formation of the fellowship and the resultant plans and preparations entailed for the quest, the incident at the fountain slipped from his mind and was not to resurface for quite some time.

 

O-O-O

 

It was all over, the ring destroyed, Aragorn, now Elessar, crowned and wed and the darkness that had lain over the land for so long banished, never to return. One fine evening, after yet another celebratory banquet, Gimli found himself escaping the noisy crowds and wandering the streets of Gondor, a certain wood elf by his side. He could not help but smile to himself as he allowed the musical voice of his friend to wash over his ears, half heeding as the elf expounded upon his plans for the gardens and open spaces, explaining the benefits of greenery in the healing of the city and its people. His family would not believe their eyes if they could see him now. Side by side with an elf, one of Thranduil’s wild elves at that. How times change. He snorted loudly and the flow of words briefly stopped as a pair of piercing blue eyes fixed him with a quizzical stare, before resuming once more in a slightly firmer tone. They walked on to together with Gimli now adding the occasional gruff word into the conversation, just to show the elf that he was in fact listening to what was being said.

 

Rounding a corner into a large, formal square they both stood for a moment, awed by the sight before them. The dwarf was the first to come to his senses and a string of guttural sounds were loosed from his lips as he slowly, no, reverently, crossed the cracked, marble paving to stand before the imposing piece that stood, miraculously still working and intact at its centre. Reaching out with a hand, thick and calloused by the years spent working with stone and wielding his axe, Gimli gently stroked the lip of the huge, scalloped dish before him. The pale marble felt cool and smooth to his touch and as his fingers traced a thin vein of palest pink around the waterline he felt a tremor run through his body as if it called out to his soul. Looking up his eyes swept over the beautifully carved figures that formed a tableau rising from the bowl’s centre. A tall man stood proudly beside a willowy maiden, in the centre of his forehead lay a single, clear gemstone, faceted to catch the sun’s rays and project a multitude of colours through the droplets of water cascading over the whole structure, making it sparkle with light and life. His face an uncanny replica of he who had been crowned so recently king of the city. Surrounding the pair were various birds and beasts, intricately carved and true to life, all gazing at the couple in rapt wonder, mortal enemies side by side, drawn together by their love of the figures amidst them. Wings and limbs stretched out as they bathed in the falling water as if it contained the very essence of life.

 

Gimli heard a soft sigh and turned his gaze away reluctantly to the elf who had walked up silently beside him. His heart caught at the emotion held bare upon his friends face as it beheld the statuary before it was once again smoothed into the usual, serene, impassive mask the elf presented to the world. It was clear something about the sculpture pained Legolas greatly, but he knew well enough now that any words from him would be swept away lightly in riddle and laughter. If the elf wanted to unburden his heart he would do so in his own time and place and naught would be served by trying to force the issue. A pale hand stretched out as if trying to catch one of the sunbeams dancing over the water’s surface and Gimli spotted the glint of gold as a small coin traversed its way between the long, elegant fingers. He was suddenly transported back to Imladris, to the day before the council of Elrond. A moment pushed into the recesses of his mind by the subsequent events and he could see again another beautifully carved, marble fountain and the strange elf he had not known then would become his greatest friend.  The coin flipped, end over end, higher and higher until at last it began to fall and in the dwarves mind the two pictures became one, past and present blurring together as it finally entered the water with a small splash and disappeared to join the multitude of its kin barely visible at the bottom of the rippling water.

 

O-O-O

 

Eryn Lasgallen, the forest one known to men and his kin as Mirkwood had been renamed after the ending of the war, yet to Gimli it was still a dark and forbidding place. He hung on tightly to the elf’s waist as they passed under the canopy on Arod’s back, glad of the others comforting presence, although he would never have admitted it to the blasted creature, after all, It wouldn’t do to let him think a dwarf needed succour from an elf.

 

They had travelled far and wide together since leaving Gondor to return to their respective homes, sharing in the thrill of discovery at each new place they came upon and enjoying the ever growing sense of camaraderie and closeness with each stop. It was only now, as they moved closer to the heart of Thranduil’s realm that Gimli began to realise just how much he had enjoyed the elf’s company and how little he looked forward to the parting of their ways. As the trees thinned out before them and a group of elves appeared, standing before a high, stone portal Gimli suppressed a sigh. Looking around, he wondered if his friend’s family would be there to meet him, if indeed they still resided on these shores and realised he had no idea if the elf had any family at all. For all Gimli knew he may have sprung, fully formed, from the forest itself.

 

They had been in the forest for two days and the dwarf was still coming to terms with the fact that he had befriended Thranduil’s only son when he stumbled upon a well-thumbed book in Legolas’ study whilst waiting for said elf to return from a meeting with his father. To say that the king had been displeased to find a dwarf accompanying his son was an understatement and nothing compared to his reaction upon discovering the depth of their friendship. That morning’s summons had had Legolas cursing under his breath, using harsh, dwarvish words that sounded so strange coming from lips more naturally used to spouting the lilting, musical tones of his native language, the use of which shocked Gimli to his core, although on later reflection he wondered why that should be. He was no puritan when it came to language himself and the elf had been his companion through the most trying of times, it was only natural that some of that language had rubbed off on him.

 

Anyway, Legolas had, after some persuasion, gone to meet with his father alone as requested, leaving Gimli behind with the invitation to make himself at home in the elf’s study until his return and this is what he had done. For a while the dwarf had sat quietly in one of the pair of leather covered, soft and padded chairs that flanked the fireplace, contemplating how empty his life was going to be without the elf when he returned to his own halls but the resultant melancholy was too much to bear and he soon found himself wandering round the room, running his eyes over what few personal mementoes it contained and wondering at their significance to the prince. The book had been sitting in the centre of a dark wooden desk that rested against one wall and had seemed strangely incongruous with its colourful cover, illustrated by an obviously childish hand. As he had picked it up Gimli found himself wondering if that hand had been Legolas’ own and a tender smile played under the mass of red facial hair he bore. Returning to the chair, book in hand he settled down and slowly began to turn the pages and realised he was looking at a book of myths and legends such that a youngster may snuggle down to at bedtime. The beautifully flowing script was beyond him but the pictures depicted the stories so well that it didn’t really matter.

 

He hadn’t realised that his eyes had closed until the sound of musical laughter forced them open again and Gimli awoke to see a pair of brightly shining blue eyes peering down at him. Covering his embarrassment with a gruff ‘harrumph’ the dwarf shifted in his seat then realised the book he had been holding was no longer on his lap but was dangling from one of the elf’s slender hands, it’s pages open at the picture of a fountain he had been closely studying before his last blink had turned into a nap. Looking up into the fair face he felt his own begin to flush and opened his mouth to offer up a sarcastic remark about the juvenile nature of elves to cover the fact, when Legolas suddenly dropped to kneel at his feet and began to read.

 

It was as if a spell had been placed around them. The elf’s lyrical tones lifted both words and pictures from the page, weaving them together in Gimli’s mind in such a vivid way that it was as if he stood inside the story itself to watch it unfold. The myth of how throwing coins into a fountain were said to bring love, if the heart was true.

 

He saw the young couple as they met for the first time at the midsummer’s ball and all others faded from their view, observed them under the stars beside a beautiful fountain in the centre of the fair city of Aqualondë as they plighted their troth with vows of constancy and love. Grew angry as the ellon fell under the spell of another and swept aside those vows in lust and passion, wept as the elleth returned to the fountain to fling herself into the waters in despair and was taken in by Ulmo to join him as consort in the Ambar deeps, then wept again as the ellon, the spell broken and realising what he had done followed her into Mandos where he would spend eternity searching for her, in vain.

 

It was like coming out of a dream when at last the tale was told and Legolas’ voice grew silent. For a moment Gimli was unable to move under the weight of the emotions left behind, then slowly he moved his gaze to his friends face and gasped to see tears to match his own freely running from eyes filled with a strange mixture of pain and hope. The detached, unemotional, almost cold mask finally completely torn away.

 

They talked then for what seemed like days. The dam finally being broken Gimli learned of Legolas’ past, his childhood, his youth, his hopes and dreams. How alone he had often felt being the son of the king, never knowing if he was being courted for himself or his position, either in friendship or love. His capture by the witch king and the harrowing events following. The great friendship between himself and the sons of Elrond and the love that had finally blossomed when he had allowed his heart to open at last only to have had it snatched away when his feelings were unrequited and his longed for mate wed to another. How the first coin had been thrown in desperation that an age old myth would bring back the love he so desperately craved, yet knew, deep down had already lost, the second to make peace for the first as he realised that it had not truly been love after all, only a shadow and a dream of what love could really be, for his heart knew at last to whom his fear had always belonged, even before his body had ever existed.

 

The elf had faltered then, fixing his expressive eyes upon those of the dwarf and what Gimli had seen reflected in their ancient depths had rocked him to his core. A light suddenly woke within him and with it brought the knowledge that if he so chose he would not have to  leave these halls alone and for the first time in his own long and lonely life he dared allow his own heart to hope.


End file.
